


Later's Better Than Never

by West_Coast_Moper



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Apologies, Bribery of candy, Cussing, Fights, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Sexual Frustration, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/West_Coast_Moper/pseuds/West_Coast_Moper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being stranded at a gas station with a broken down van was not an objective on Patrick's bucket list...Nor was having a crush on his bassist player...Life just seemed to be a bitch that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Later's Better Than Never

**Author's Note:**

> Cheesy confessions, short-lived controversies and the van days...Why the fuck not?

Patrick's whole entire body's twitching, anger clouding at his brain like a spray of boiling water. He inhaled deeply for a moment, collecting whatever thoughts his mind previously supplied before Pete prodded at his shoulder again and then blew a short gust of air over his neck causing him to writhe uncomfortably away.

 

"Don't touch me," he growled out, his voice dripping with venom, and Pete gave him bewildered look, eyebrows furrowed and nose wrinkled. "Dude," Pete said with a frown. "The fuck?"

 

Patrick huffed, crossed his arms and turned his head to glare through the grimy glass of the currently busted down old van. "The fuck  _what?_ Fuck off and leave me alone," he answered, words gritted out and jaw tensed. Patrick's not exactly in the most exuberant mood and he'd prefer not talking...for eternity.

 

Pete attempted to grapple at his shoulder once again, however Patrick shrugged him off, ducked his head and yanked his hat forward, covering his eyes. "Do you have ears? Fuck off." He could practically feel Pete sulking behind him. A pang of guilt hit him for a moment, but he shook it off and swallowed thickly in order to forget the existence of his best friend behind him.

 

"Fine, be a dick," Pete grumbled, suddenly seething to match Patrick's prevailing rage and the younger was urged to reply with a simple "Fine, I will be," but thought against it.

 

Patrick arched a brow when Pete swung open the side door to the van, heaved himself through it before giving one last dark glare, a sunken frown to mirror the somber look in his eyes. He then slammed the door shut causing a rattle of the hinges.

 

Patrick knew he was being a dick, he's aware of his asshole tendencies, but right now he couldn't care less. He's homesick, stranded at a vile and dreadfully aged gas station, and frustrated...Whatever, it doesn't matter.

 

So for the sake of it not mattering he laid his head against the glass of the window, grazed his eyes over it, snorted at the "Suck my Richard" written from a case of hyperactive fingers to a dusty blurred window situation. Clearly Pete's doing. He's developed an itch in his skin telling him to apologize, but can't find the strength to stand up and shove his weight through the crowded van.

 

So Patrick took five minutes, or ten, pursed his lips at the fact that Pete hasn't came back yet, scooped his phone from his back pocket, checked his messages; zero. A sigh left his lips, this isn't the first time he's done this. He's got a short temper and a frame to match. Doesn't like to take shit from anyone. Doesn't matter who it is, whether it's Pete, or some other dude being an asshole. Patrick doesn't deal with it, that's all there is to it.

 

Patrick felt a tap on his shoulder, craning his neck back he came face to face with Joe giving him a pointed look. "I know," he groaned, turning back. "You're quite the teenage drama queen today, aren't you?" Joe muttered and Patrick's once again tempted to do something he probably shouldn't

 

"Shut up," Patrick mumbled in a low voice, pushing his head closer towards the window as his eyes fluttered shut. "I'll deal with it...Like...Later." Joe snorted, patting him on the head to which he gave an irritated noise. "Later," he repeated.

 

Later.

 

***

 

Later must have meant sooner because Patrick found himself trudging into the convenience store, a scowl crossing his face at the name imprinted key chains and the uncomfortable itch increasing at the sight of flickering lights.

 

The word "ghosts" flashed in his brain for a moment; word originated from Joe's lips as a joke that made Pete grimace and curl into Patrick's side. "Don't joke about the dead," he had said, Patrick's inclined to agree, but he absolutely positively does not believe in ghosts, or any of that paranormal bullshit.

 

He roamed through the rows of magazines to the horrific junk food that half of them eat on a daily basis. "What a tour," he muttered, with a frown. He's being a jerk, it's been rad--besides the whole van breaking down incident, but whatever. At least they weren't too far off from a gas station. A silver lining to the darkened grey of a rain cloud

 

Well...Rummaging through century-old candy was not on his list of objectives. He's on a mission to find his as of now missing bassist, so he should probably get on that. Crossing the black and white tiled floor, ignoring the cashiers dull and aloof greeting, he narrowed his eyes at the men's bathroom door and sighed.

 

Patrick went to open it, but unfortunately it was locked. Predictable. With a curl of his fingers he gave a small knock with the back of his hand. "Pete?"

 

A small voice answered back. "Give me five minutes," it said and Patrick rolled his eyes. "Pete," he repeated, more of a warning than a question. The click of a throat rang through his ears and he raised an eyebrow. "I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to retrieve you."

 

"The package is busy," Pete replied, short and curt. Patrick gave a brief laugh. "Doing what? Taking a piss? I've seen your dick, man." No response is gained and Patrick felt a tad irritated and a bit helpless. "Look--"

 

"Patrick just--" Pete began, cut short when Patrick gave a frustrated kick at the door. "Fuck you alright--I said five minutes." Patrick hummed for a long moment, deep and voluptuous, purposely enticing. A small laugh left him before he said "Not leav--Wait...Fuck me? What makes you think you'd top?"

 

"I--" With a hitch of his breath, Pete went quiet. The eerie silence exerting annoyance onto Patrick's nerves like the buzz of a fly to his eardrums. "That's not funny," Pete finally mumbled through the thin wooden door, his voice oddly quiet.

 

"What if it's not a joke?" The question is unexpected to both of their ears. Patrick heard a distinct click and then noticed the knob turning before only a sliver of Pete could be seen through the crack of the door. "If you're joking about the joke...I'm gonna fucking murder you."

 

"Gonna be difficult finding a new vocalist...Don't y'think," Patrick teased, badly timed and inappropriate by the gift of Pete's frown hurled at him in response. "...Sorry, my bad." An apology probably should've been sent a long while ago, but the door still opened another inch as if Patrick was unlocking a prize with each and every one of them.

 

"Pete if you open the door...I'll buy you a king-sized anything with my last four dollars," Patrick offered, more like bribed. Pete gave a narrow of his eyes, tapping his fingers against the door before a smirk curled upon his lips. The door widened until it was fully open and Pete was standing there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

 

"I know I've been a dick and--" Pete interrupted him by seizing his wrist and yanking him into the bathroom, almost sending him to stumble and tumble his way to the floor, which he's not entirely happy with only his feet being upon the surface. He shifted uncomfortably, the soles of his shoes sticking to the black and barely white only just. Ew. "Care to tell me why?"

 

Patrick blew a stray hair out of his face, adjusting his hat before he gave a near scowl. "I was getting to that...I don't know, homesick?" He fumbled with his words for a brief moment, chewing at his bottom lip before he said "Maybe it's the fact that I'm stuck in a van with four dudes--maybe it's because one doesn't know what a shirt even is, or that he wears jeans that practically suffocate the ordinarily average--"

 

It took him a few seconds to realize that he'd cornered Pete up against the previous barrier of the cracked, chipped, and white painted door. "Maybe I'm frustrated because I've been on a dry streak for days and my dick has barely met the acquaintance of my hand in last two weeks, or--"

 

"Patrick I get it," Pete uttered in a croak, but Patrick ignored him. "Or because my best friend is constantly clinging onto my side, whispering random shit about "platonic soulmates" into my ears at night, or--" It's turned into a rant and Pete's obtained a look of hurt. "Patrick, dude...For fuck's sake I get it," he insisted and Patrick relented.

 

"I don't think you do," he observed and Pete huffed, arms still crossed. "I get it, you want space...It's cool." From the tone of his voice; cracked and forced, it's definitely not cool, not even at the level of exceptionally okay. "You don't get it," Patrick answered, shoulders stiff.

 

"What don't I get?" Pete demanded and Patrick wanted to laugh, but bit his tongue knowing it wouldn't of ended well. "I...So...You're kind of...attractive," that wasn't exactly what Patrick would've preferred to say, however it's been laid out on the table. Glorified and horribly crystal clear.

 

"...What." Not exactly the response Patrick would've preferred either, but y'know that's okay...He can work with this. "But not just your appearance...Are you getting me?" From the scrunch of Pete's brow and the wrinkle of his nose, Patrick assumed negative.

 

"So this seventeen year old I know kind of likes you, or whatever...You're a douche bag for making me admit it," Patrick sighed, averting his gaze. Pete studied him with dark eyes. "You have--"

 

"Yes I have a pathetic crush on you. Can we go back to the van now?" Words spoken like a true plead, Patrick's not in the mood to turn this into a big...thing. "Thing" didn't really seem fitting for this dilemma--dilemma--that's applicable.

 

Pete expression turned to incredulous. "Are you serious? No. We're gonna talk about this." His tone lacking anger, however containing a low amount of happiness. "Why does this have to be some...thing?--it's just a crush, like I'll get over it," he said with a wave of his fingers, forcing the doubt from within his voice.

 

Pete placed a hand over the vocalist's chest with a glare. "You haven't actually given me a chance to voice my opinion, but whatever...Not like that matters, or anything." Patrick snorted. "I assumed you'd never want to speak of this again--"

 

"You assumed wrong," Pete blurted and Patrick paused. "Oh," he said and the other laughed. "Yeah dude, fuck off." The younger hesitated until he spoke quietly. "Would it be weird if I--can I?--Would you let me kiss you?"

 

"Those are the exact same words I've wanted to hear, ever since I insulted your fashion sense, stood upon your very porch," Pete swooned, waving a hand at himself to emphasize his apparent melted reality. "Oh wow that's so funny because instead of my lips to your face I felt my fist would've been more appropriate around that certain time period."

 

A playful pout is sent his way and then Pete murmured "So...what're you waiting for?" Patrick shrugged. "Just making sure," Pete opened his mouth in order to retort though it's sort of ruined when Patrick's lips become a obstacle to whatever sound was attempting to escape. Words shifted into a squeak and then possibly a quiet moan, none too overdone...Patrick couldn't actually tell.

 

The slide of their mouths began clumsy, it was wet, it was hot. Kissing was never really Patrick's forte, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. Pete did too if the nails digging into his shoulders were anything to judge by. Bringing a hand up to curl around Pete's neck, Patrick grinned against Pete's mouth. He ran his thumb gently over the older's windpipe; ensuing the former to let out a soft sigh of contentment.

 

Arm's wrapped around middles, hands tangled within thin strands of unkempt hair...Hat leaping to it's demise on the bathroom tile. Occasional laughter leaving them when Patrick nearly slipped and almost fell to his death--of embarrassment--Trying to save his hat from said demise, thankfully using the door behind Pete as support. He ignored it. Gave a wiggle of his shoulders and threw himself back into the kiss and into whatever fantasy he dreamt a month prior to this current make out session. Nothing beats the real thing, that's for sure.

 

The rhythm of their bodies now resembled a sweet _sweet_ melody, Patrick could say at the least he enjoyed kissing a tiny bit more as of today. And yeah it's cliche, but in general kisses are cliche alone...He's young so he's got an excuse to make horrible metaphors for a vast while longer...What's Pete's excuse?

 

Said man tugged on Patrick's shoulder, brought him closer and closer until there was no space in between them, warm and heavy breath mixing and cascading over each other's body's, However Patrick was still being yanked on harder and harder. A little exhausting don't y'think?

 

Patrick pulled back with a smirk. "If you're trying to make us one I'm sure I can think of a better way," he said with a jerk of his hips. "Oh, oh fuck, okay," Pete rasped, a high whine leaving the back of his throat from the clothed dick-to-dick contact.

 

"This may be a little...I don't know rushed? But since I've seen you naked more than your own past girlfriends...I'm gonna touch your dick," Patrick announced, loud and clear. Pete's body gave a thrum of please, while his mouth said something else. "Wow, eager teenagers--You sure? Like do you really want our first dick touch to be in a gas station bathroom?"

 

"Dude are you really gonna say no?" Pete appeared thoughtful for a moment before he shrugged. "Probably not, it's not that bad...Like this one time I gave this guy a blow job in an alley wa--" "You're ruining everything by talking."

 

"Then shut me up."

 

"Gladly."

 

Patrick laid a hand flat over Pete's crotch, sending a tremor through the other. He couldn't really help the re-return of the deadly smirk, but then again Pete couldn't really help the re-return of his loud whine...Music to Patrick's ears...After all he'd know, he's apparently a musical genius judging by Pete's hollered praises of endearment. Rejected at Patrick's hand, but flattered nonetheless.

 

He gave a experimental press of his palm against warm denim and a dig of his fingernails. Pete bucked into the touch and let out a groan, head falling back with a thick exhale of breath.

 

Patrick was feeling pretty...good, filled to the brim with satisfaction, ego inflated, and just as he was actually about to undo Pete's fly there was an array of rambunctious knocks at the door sending a jump through the two boys. "Holy fuck," Pete breathed, Patrick decided to shut him up by covering his mouth with a hand. "Yes?" He called, voice only somewhat breathy.

 

"The van is up and in run way condition, while you fuckers are taking two hours in a gas station bathroom to work out your differences...Honestly could you two just come the fuck on?" Joe hissed through the door and Patrick contained a laugh.

 

Pete struggled away from Patrick's hand with a lick of his tongue, waggled his eyebrows and whispered "I'd like to work out more than just our differences if you know what I mean."

 

Patrick mustered the most unimpressed expression before he replied with a completely dry line of "Yeah, it was fairly evident. Thank you."

 

He continued with "Yeah, yeah, don't get your curls in a knot Joe...We'll be out in a few seconds..."

 

"Better be," and that's all that was said as Joe's footsteps echoed throughout the bathroom until they were inaudible to both their ears.

 

"Well that was lame," Pete commented after a few seconds and Patrick silently agreed. "...Guess your dick is gonna have to wait." Another pout sent his way and he might just make Joe wait an hour before they leave this bathroom.

 

"C'mere," the younger crooned, giving Pete a peck before they both pranced out of the convenience store, hands clasped and fingers entwined. Patrick'll ignore his dick for now. Never mind the uncomfortable fiction in his jeans. Pete's overwhelmed with pride because he's the one who caused it.

 

He'll be the butt of jokes from the older for awhile, but he's fully equipped to return them.

 

"Your dry streak will be gone eventually," Pete had said with a pat to Patrick's shoulder and a cheeky smile.

 

Patrick held onto the promise.

 

Later.

 

It all ended in a later...But at least it's better than a never.

 

***

 

"Oh my god," Pete crowed in a sudden frenzy, seemingly puffing all the air out of his lungs in one heave of an exhale. Patrick gave him a blank look. Eyes half lidded. "What?"

 

"You never bought me my rightfully earned candy." Pete told him, poking him in shoulder, a repetition of the previous assault of Pete's oddly edged fingertip. The smell of black nail polish was really starting to get to Patrick.

 

"I could...I don't know--give you something else to suck on...?" Patrick offered, and gave a lazy shrug with a grin to match. Pete sighed, shaking his head in a display of second-hand shame, his well-known toothy smile clearly being held back from the visible strain of his lips.

 

"Get your hormones in check," he scolded and Patrick's grin widened before he mimicked his previous shrug with a more focused intent. "Nah," he drawled, sneaking a chaste kiss to Pete's cheek. His stomach fluttered at the light blush that littered Pete's cheeks after the brief act.

 

He neglected the sensation to add a quiet "Later." to the already lengthened list. Pete let a soft smile grow upon his face in addition to the bats in Patrick's stomach.

 

" _Later._ "

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, or at least semi-liked it...Dunno...


End file.
